


Steve's 100th Birthday

by waltermitty



Series: Steve and Bucky [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 04:03:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16946649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltermitty/pseuds/waltermitty
Summary: The world turns on despite the infinity war, steve's birthday from buck's perspective





	Steve's 100th Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> There is some mention of NSWF content but its pretty brief! I truly hope you enjoy this little fic, its the first of many to come hopefully!

Avengers tower in the early fog of New York mornings is achingly familiar. It's nothing compared to the sticky hot blanket of sweat, courtesy of nights spent on a fire escape in Brooklyn, swearing and sweating but never removing myself from his embrace. Steve wrapped around me like a wet sock in the damp heat. The slanted walls of Steve's ma’s old apartment, feeling like it was jus me n him hiding out there, away from the rest of the world. These days things have changed, or so they've told me. Steve's been in this century for awhile now, in this brave new world. Alone. Now that we can be here together, the looming threat of being mugged for stealing a drunken kiss in the dark alleyways gone, some nights on the way home from dancing with a coupla girls I found looking for some fellas, others jus me and Steve. Stevie can't dance for anything, he used to hack a lung if i dipped his asthmatic ass even a little bit, but these days he's all big feet and hands and it's like tryna dance with a dammed golden retriever. that n we can't keep our hands off of each other. being dead, or assumed dead for 70 years after you watched your lover drop from a train, does something to a fellas heart. makin love to steve requires a damn winter coat, what with his obsessive scratching. I can't spar with Sam and Natasha these days, since I've been turned into his personal scratching post. Last time Stark asked me what the hell was wrong with me after Steve, the little shit, had ‘lovingly’ read ‘smacked’ the middle of my back, hours after tearing it to shreds, I about blew a gasket, doubling over and sputtering some nonsense, all I could come up with was how I got into a fight with Rocket, n how that freaky ass raccoon tried to get my damm arm. I nod towards the stump where the empty space was usually occupied with the vibranium appendage. It'd be a sweltering 90 degrees and I'd be wearing a turtleneck tryin to hide the bite marks around my throat. I laugh a bit at the memory, but it's an empty laugh. The spider kid, Peter, I think, stares at me behind wide eyes. he's afraid. we all are. the red hues swirling around our bodies, wrapping us in a foggy haze. Time moves differently here. Wanda and Vision are holding each other, lost in themselves. The guardians are a mess, Peter can't find Gamora, he's screamed himself hoarse looking for her, calling for her. Rocket is holding a weak and barely formed Groot, tears prickling at the front of his beady black eyes. Mantis and Drax are off in the distance, quietly talking in their weird fashion. Strange has taken up a fatherly role for Peter, acting as a stand-in for Stark, for May. "He's 100 years old today kid. 100 years." I shake my head slightly as if to come to terms with it all. Peter just stares at me, maybe in shock, maybe in wonder. The silence is a welcome friend, a beautifully damaged release from the tortured sobs and wails of the trapped inhibits of this strange in-between of nothingness.


End file.
